Illness Never Plagues The Dreamers
by SnivaliceLlover
Summary: Arthur is getting over the flu, with the help of his true love Eames, a Roberto Cavalli suit and the Northern Lights. Fluffy drabble. Eames/Arthur.


**For my lovely friend Brolly – who was convinced that Eames' stroked Arthur up the leg during the Inception film. xx**

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><p>"Well don't you look cosy" Eames smirked at the stretched out Arthur. The Point Man was tucked under at least three thick duvets, propped up with a mound of over-stuffed pillows and a small laptop was propped up on his lap, alongside a wobbling pile of documents and his ever-faithful totem was nestled near his hip.<p>

"I thought you were supposed to be extracting today?" Arthur frowned, reaching under the duvet to pull out a small brown leather notebook. Eames rolled his eyes. _Trust Arthur to have that blasted calendar everywhere._ The Forger walked across the room and sat down on the bed, lightly resting his hand on what he assumed to be Arthur's thigh. However, due to the amount of bedding he had strewn around him, it could've just been a pillow.

"And I thought you were supposed to be sleeping? You know the old line 'Feed a flu'. You're just going to wear yourself out again" The Forger's voice was light and jokey, but Arthur knew his boyfriend. There was a flicker of worry behind his pale eyes, and the pressure from Eames' hand had increased slightly. He was worried.

But he needn't be. Arthur had managed to fight off the flu more than once in his life, and that was without the worry and attention of his true love.

"I'll be fine. I promised Dom I'd get these figures done from the job. The last extraction didn't exactly go to plan did it?" he shot a poignant look at Eames, who blushed slightly. It wasn't the Forgers fault. But to see Arthur getting stabbed by one of the client's projections proved too much for him. It wasn't the fact it hadn't killed the Point Man outright, in fact that was one of the hazards with the line of work that was necessary but horrible. But it was Arthur's face. Torn up with agony. And that shriek that followed afterwards.

He didn't mean to punch the client when they woke up. But he had, and from the still-raw scabs on his knuckles, the broken nose was compensation.

"Well… I can't control myself can I?" Eames smirked and moved closer to sit beside his boyfriend, who smiled weakly. His hair was un-gelled, but stuck to his forehead with the cold sweat that had first alerted Eames to the illness. He was pale, with dark rings of exhaustion surrounding his eyes. He looked completely broken down, but as Eames moved his hand under the duvet to lace his fingers with Arthur's, he frowned, feeling the fabric of Arthur's clothing beneath his fingers.

It was completely familiar. Starched, clean lines, beautiful quality, the kind of thing that Arthur bought himself but kept reverently in the closest until a special occasion.

Pulling back to duvet, Eames had to bite his lip to hide a laugh. The Roberto Cavalli suit that was much prized by Arthur was now stuck to his body with sweat, darker patches surrounding his armpits and his stomach, staining the light grey material to almost pitch-black.

"I wanted to feel special" Arthur smiled, nuzzling closer to Eames' warm body. "Being ill made me feel like I was this unwashed heathen. The minute I put this on I felt so much better". The Point Man stretched out, tangling his legs with Eames' linen-clad ones.

"You are precious darling. You know that don't you?" Eames' meant it. Only his Arthur would buy a $3,000 suit and wear it when he should've been in sweatpants and a oversized t-shirt.

"Of course" Arthur sighed, closing his eyes. He could feel himself edging towards the boundaries of sleep. He prodded Eames' who reached over and turned on a small sleep machine. They had taken to moving one of the machines into their bedroom, wanting their dreams to be able to be controlled and perfect.

"See you in a minute?" Arthur mumbled drowsily, wincing slightly as Eames' plugged him in. No doubt he was busy creating the dream from his memories. It could be his favourite, a mound of luxurious blankets and pillows underneath a cold Northern sky. The Aurora Borealis would be shimmering overhead and despite the cold conditions, they'd always be warm. And together.

"Of course" Eames' plugged himself in, smiling as he cuddled Arthur close.


End file.
